


the awful edges where you end and I begin

by tsunderestorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 16:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Ardyn visits from Niflheim, and his presence causes Noct to present as an omega.





	the awful edges where you end and I begin

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a fill for the kink meme, this can be viewed in its original format [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3451.html?thread=4236411#cmt4236411) . The prompt was as follows: _Ardyn is in Insomnia for some kind of official business. He runs into Noctis (16 - 18 please). Cue Noctis's hormones going crazy from such a strong alpha's scent and he presents as an omega right there and then._
> 
>  
> 
> _I was hoping for a strange ABO AU where the alpha who makes the omega present is kind of like their soul mate. So most omegas are never 'awakened' and live their lives as betas._
> 
>  
> 
> Side note: despite LOVING the trope, I had never written ABO before so...uh. Enjoy this.

The Niflheim Chancellor smells different _._ Not rank, like Gladio fresh from the training room and dripping sweat or Ignis with his sage and citrus cologne, but _different_. He smells like something hot and musky, something that invades Noctis’ senses and makes him dizzy, makes his vision fuzz as his stomach drops. When he skips out on dinner claiming lightheadedness the glances are exchanged, when he shakes at the barest brush of a hand people start talking. Although no one says words like _alpha_ and _omega_ around him, no one makes guesses as to how the Crown Prince will present. Noctis is certainly _thinking_ them as he watches the Chancellor from across the hall, watches his handsome face and built body move through elegant and elaborate gestures. _Ardyn Izunia_ , he thinks, wrapping his lips around the words and mouthing in silence along with yet another introduction from the man.

His skin feels hot when he looks at him, too tight, like he’s feeling so much he’s going to burst out of his own body. He hadn’t felt like this until the envoy from Niflheim arrived, hadn’t felt like this until Ardyn had brushed against him. He can feel his body changing in a way that shocks him, morphing to fit, to belong. _Presenting_ , a voice at the back of his mind offers and he doesn’t know if he’s terrified of being claimed, an omega trophy prince or elated at the prospect of no longer being an eighteen-year-old virgin. Ardyn seems to know something is happening, too, from the way he drags his tongue over Noctis’ name when they are formally introduced, from the way his fingers brush over the tender underside of Noctis’ forearm when they shake hands. 

Ardyn must be an alpha, Noctis realizes as the smell of him makes his skin prickle, nipples hardening uncomfortably beneath his dress shirt. His cock being half-hard, he can handle - he’s not that big and if he shifts just right in his seat, it’s easy to hide but the way his hole feels slick and downright sloppy when Ardyn even _looks_ at him the right way is too much for him to handle. 

“I can smell you, Noctis,” the Chancellor finally says in passing, voice velveteen and low. “I can smell a bitch in heat from a mile away.” 

Those words thrum in Noctis’ head. _A bitch in heat,_ he repeats to himself as he lays in bed thinking of the man’s face, the rich auburn of his hair, the way his pupils had blown wide and feral when Noct walked by him. He imagines the scratchy stubble of his beard against his cheek, his neck, wonders if his chest is covered in that same rich hair, if it goes lower still. He can’t get the man out of his mind as much as he makes his skin crawl, can’t banish the thought of Ardyn’s sculpted body against his own. 

If this is _heat_ , he thinks, then that must mean Ardyn is meant for him, meant to give him the special part of him that alphas give their omegas, meant to _knot him_. He’s never thought much about it, never given an alpha’s knot a passing thought until his imagination supplies him with visions of Ardyn’s: hot and throbbing, thick at the base of his cock. 

In the eastern tower Ardyn sits, and he stews. The Lucian crown prince is an omega, something even his delicately-placed network of spies could never have told him. An omega, he thinks smugly, because _he_ has visited, pushed him over that beautifully delicate cusp and awakened a heat that will never go out, a glowing ember he wants to fan into passionate flames.

Just his presence has taught the boy desire, want, _need,_ it has triggered his supple little body into a reminder of what he is meant for. This, Ardyn thinks, is the reason he’s been biding his time through years of unsatisfying, unbound ruts, the reason there are mutt pups with his hair and eyes scattered across the millennia of history books. This boy, this perfect Caelum prince with his sweet, soft body and untouched, sweet-smelling hole to be fucked is the one he’s been looking for. His blood, his very _being_ calls out for him just as much as the heat-scent, leaves him drunk on it, makes him vow that he has to have him. His kingdom, his retainers, his father be damned - eons ago the gods promised him this fate, this perfect mate and this perfect mate he shall have.

 _Noct,_ he groans, repeating the shortened name he’d heard the Shield and Sword call him by. Why, he wonders, have these alphas’ ruts not dragged him into his heats? He can smell it on them as thick as he can smell it on himself but it’s _his_ presence the precious princeling calls out for. His hand around his dick feels exquisite even if it’s nowhere near as good as he imagines Prince Noctis’ hole feels, the oil dripping down his fingers nothing compared to the prince’s slick. The base of his cock thickens excitedly, leaves him with an uncomfortable ache that makes his mouth water and as his knot swells it’s the vision of Noctis he’s conjuring to his mind, the slick, slack-open space between those supple cheeks that calls out to be filled. 

The boy needs mated, Ardyn decides as his knot is swelling in his palm, hungry for even the fantasy of the little omega prince. He’s a Caelum (the Chosen One, if Ardyn is to believe the prophecies, the rumors the gods-forsaken Crystal whispers) and powerful by blood, by magic, by divinity but Ardyn wants to touch him, mate him, _own him,_ make him nothing but breeding fodder for an old and bitter man. He imagines Noctis keening with need beneath him in his bed, snuck away from his watchful retainers to spread his nimble thighs for an oh-so-charming visitor. His cock throbs as he imagines Noctis’ belly fat with his babies as his knot pulses, so thick he swears he’s going to burst if his mind offers _one more_ delicious image of Noctis desperate for it. He imagines Noctis bound to him, spirited away to live in the dark place only daemons reside and _that’s_ what drags him over the edge: the ownership, the way he wants to lay claim to him the way an ancient king would a castle. A treasure. 

—

Noctis can tell the Chancellor is trying to get him alone, knows he should be worried about that. There is nothing more dangerous than an alpha in rut alone with a sweet, unbonded omega, nothing more filled with impropriety than the very _idea_ of he and Ardyn alone together. He knows that Gladio and Ignis would chop off Ardyn’s head if they knew what he was up to, knows he himself shouldn’t _want_ to be left alone with the Chancellor but he wants it just the same makes excuses to walk past him as he tours the Citadel, as he sits in on treaty talks, as he enjoys the labyrithine garden. Just the smell of Ardyn makes him dizzy, delirious with need even if he walks by him in the hallway, and as many times as he fucks open his own hole it isn’t enough to make him stop _aching._ He spends his time in his bedroom, dripping slick from the tips of his fingers down the delicate bones of his wrist, moaning _Ardyn, Ardyn please_ , wondering when he’ll get the courage to really say it out loud, get the courage to disobey everything he’s been taught and spread his legs for the stranger.

His chance comes quicker than expected, when he’s half-asleep during a meeting from another sleepless night spent trying to relieve the tension his heat has brought on. 

“A gift, from Niflheim for the sweet young prince,” Ardyn drawls as he places an elaborately carved box in Noctis’ hand. Their fingers brush for the briefest of seconds and Noctis sucks in a breath, feels like he’s gasping like a man half-drowned as every urge in his body tells him to drag Ardyn on top of him atop the conference table right then and there. 

“To keep all of your secrets,” he adds, meeting Noctis’ eye and there’s something there: something dark and feral in the way his pupils dilate wildly. A secret between them, Noctis supposes, as Ardyn bows his head a second later so no one else can see. Noctis opens the box and sees a slip of paper, delicately curled like a ribbon on a gift.

 _The smell of you drives me mad,_ the letter reads when he unfurls it. _I will have you_. It’s a peace treaty dependent of the one their countries are discussing, something more powerful and potent, something undeniable and it makes Noctis’ chest ache when he thinks about it, makes him want so badly he could cry. 

\--

Noctis presents for him down on his knees and elbows, back a sharp curve, exposing his pulsing hole for Ardyn’s view, his enjoyment, his _use_. He knows he shouldn’t, knows the last person he should be lying down for is a high-ranking official from the empire that’s tried to destroy them but his body wants what it wants and needs what it needs, and what it needs is to be split open on Ardyn’s cock, to be utterly and completely _taken_ by him. He can feel it hard down the leg of his pants as he presses it against him from behind, still dressed even though Noctis is completely nude and gods, _that_ feels dirty in and of itself. 

“I’ve waited one hundred lifetimes for you,” Ardyn drawls as he unfastens his belt and withdraws his cock, lays it against Noctis’ back. It’s thick and heavy, girth taking up what Noctis swears is half his thin back and the feel of it drives him crazy. So close to where he wants it, so deliciously close to _filling him_ but so far it makes him whimper. “You’re destined to be mine, can you feel it?”

Noctis can. He’s never felt anything more strongly, never wanted anything more than Ardyn’s cock spreading him open, filling him up. Never wanted anything more than to be _his_ , to be bound for the rest of eternity to him, filled to bursting with litters after litter. He wonders if it’ll happen right away, if one good knotting from his mate (that’s what Ardyn is, right? His _mate_?) will give him the babies his body so desperately wants to carry, if one time bonding will sate the ache. 

“You had never felt like this before I visited, had you?” Ardyn asks, thumb screwing into his hole as he gets him ready. The slick heat of him draws him in sucks on the pad of his thumb, makes him nearly cross-eyed with pleasure imagining how it’s going to feel around his dick. “You hadn’t the slightest idea you were _made_ for this.”

It isn’t a question, not really. Ardyn poses it as one though they both know it’s the truth. They both know his close proximity, the smell of him, his very existence forced Noct into this, called out to something deep inside of him and pulled it to the surface gasping for air, eager to breathe the way a fire needed oxygen to thrive.

“ _Yes_ ,” he gasps, rocking back against Ardyn’s dick, rocking so his length rubs up and down the slick cleft of him. It’s dripping down his thighs as Ardyn teases him, practically _pouring_ out of him in anticipation of Ardyn filling him.

“You needed someone to show you, didn’t you, pet?” Ardyn drawls, fingers on Noctis’ sides before they hook onto his hips, jerking him backwards so his thick cockhead catches on his hole. “Have no fear, that’s what I’m meant for, to knot you like the bitch that you are.”

 _Meant for_ , Noctis repeats as the first bit of Ardyn’s cock spreads him. _The bitch you are_. The bitch he is, he repeats as he sinks lower to the bed, thighs spread so wide they’ll ache later so he can accomodate Ardyn’s girth. Nothing could have prepared him for how glorious it felt to be filled, how _immediately_ the pain turned from an agonizing, empty ache to an exquisite burn as he was spread wide, _too wide_. Ardyn’s presence is all around him: behind him, above him, _inside him_ and he’s never felt anything better, could cry from the pure relief of it, the end to the ache that’s plagued him for the week since Ardyn’s arrived. 

Noctis is as exquisite as sin around Ardyn’s dick, tight like a vice, slick and hot and needy and knotting him feels _final_. Noctis can’t breathe, he’s so full. Ardyn is nowhere near small to begin with and the knot thickening at the base of his cock is almost _too_ much. He can’t move, forced to just whine as he’s filled to bursting, to whimper as Ardyn’s hot seed fills him in ropes. He feels bloated with it, lifts a hand to press to his belly and feels it damn near distended, like Ardyn’s cock is going to bust right out and there’s no way there’s even _room_ for the babies he wants in there, not when there’s his dick and his knot and his _cum_ filling him up. 

The knot isn’t gone, Noctis realizes after he’s reached his own climax. Ardyn is still inside of him, he’s still _knotted_ and Noctis twists to look back at him with his cheek mashed into the lavish pillows of the guest four-poster bed.

“Such a good little omega,” Ardyn praises. Something about that - so simple, using the term - makes it seem even _dirtier_ , more clandestine, more _final_. “You’d not have presented so splendidly for any other alpha, I think.”

Noctis nods as he looks at him, blinking tears of pure pleasure out of his eyes as Ardyn reaches forward and traces his thick thumb around Noctis’ rim, catching the slick coating his knot and rubbing. It’s keeping his seed inside, plugging him up and making sure it doesn’t drip out - so shameless, so filthy.

“You were meant to belong to me,” Ardyn says, hand dragging down the backs of Noctis’ thighs flushed red with heat and wet with sweat as he leans over him, hairy chest against his back. “You know what they say about omegas who present.”

Noctis knows. He knows what the legends say: a soulmate, of sorts, destiny-bound and irrevocable. It’s safer this way, everyone says, less dangerous - only the alpha who makes an omega present can bond them, only one best suited for the task can make it happen. Hundreds of omegas are betas who never find their alpha and here his was, looming over him, still impossibly thick inside of him.

“You’re mine,” Ardyn says, petting his hair when they are done, when they can finally separate. Noctis rolls over onto his belly, looking up at him and Ardyn can’t help thinking that he’s a sight for sure, knees and elbows rubbed red-raw from the sheets, cock pretty pink and still half-hard, hard nipples like dusty rosebuds. His fate, his destiny, the pretty little Chosen King the gods made especially for him, bonded and knotted and _belonging to him_.

Noctis sighs as Ardyn looms over him, large and powerful. _Dangerous_ , his mind, his heart, his gut feeling offers - this man is _dangerous_ but he’d presented for him, opened up for him, ripe for the taking. He knows the court, his retainers, his _father_ will be disappointed that he’s gone and let the Chancellor of _Niflheim_ of all places knot him but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Ardyn’s dick is dragging heavily up the backs of thighs his hands are spreading, nudging at his slick, used hole like he wants to fill him again.


End file.
